Angels at Saints' Sides
by XMissxHallawayX
Summary: They could handle themselves, but sometimes they needed a little help. Double OC story. Follows first movie. Rated T for blood content, violence, and general McManus language.
1. For Your Soul

**FAIR WARNING! I don't write stuff like this often. In case you haven't noticed, aside from one Dexter's Laboratory fic and a Harry Potter/Supernatural crossover, I work solely with written mediums! Don't kill me for my horrific inability to properly write an Irish accent. I love you!**

**This is before and during BDS1. I might do what angelfishlex did and post another story for BDS2. And I am planning one-shots for between them. Maybe.**

* * *

Bianca Lewis, Cameron O'Connell and Nadia Quinn. Best friends since they were in diapers, next door neighbors, and now rooming together in an illegal loft apartment in South Boston. None of the trio minded the violence that almost always went unreported, but they did mind that their home could be easily invaded.

Each one had purchased a knife, preferring to have their assailants at close range if they ever tried something. Nadia had gouged out a man's eye when he had attempted to rape her. The paperwork that had followed was a nightmare, but it was far better than actually being raped.

It was because of this that the trio, so rudely awakened at three o'clock in the morning, drew knives on two gun-wielding assailants.

"Stupid girl," one of them said, yanking Cameron from her bed by her cropped red hair. "Three knives versus two guns. Who do you think is going to win?"

Bianca, in the safest position on the top bunk of the set she shared with Nadia, screamed, "You fucker! Let go of her!" She made sure she was loud enough to be heard in the other apartments in the building as she pressed herself against the wall.

* * *

_"You fucker! Let go of her!"_

Connor shot up in his bed, blue eyes wide as he recognized the voice of the Lewis girl, Bianca, in the apartment across the hall. She'd never screamed like that. Not even when Nadia had been attacked in the apartment.

"Fuck. Murph! Get up!" he shouted, flinging a shoe at his snoring brother.

"Tha fuck, man?"

"Get yer fuckin' ass up, that's what!"

Connor flung his bathrobe on and ran across the hall. His eyes widened further at the sight before him.

Two men – probably related to the man Nadia had killed in self-defense a few months back – held Cameron and Nadia at gunpoint. Bianca had pressed herself to the wall.

"Now, pretty little girl," the one holding Cameron said, "come down here and be good, or we'll kill your friends and make you watch."

"Not on my watch, ya fucker!" Murphy muttered. He'd made it his business to know what happened to these girls and how they handled it. But now they were faced by two burly men with black guns.

The two Irishmen glanced at one another, nodded slightly, and rushed the one holding Nadia captive. Murphy grabbed the girl away, crashing into the bed, while Connor tackled the burly man, tangling his hand in the other man's hair and bashing his head against the floor, until he saw a splatter of blood on the cement.

A gunshot split the air.

Bianca and Nadia screamed.

Connor looked up.

The other man had shot Cameron through the throat. Blood had splattered over everything in the room, including Connor, Murphy, and both of Cameron's friends.

"That was a mistake, you Irish fucks," he said, moving to press the barrel of the gun to Connor's temple.

Bianca unexpectedly leapt from the top bunk bed onto the man, giving a ferocious battle cry, her knife flashing in her right hand. She startled him, and so flattened him to the floor. She straddled his waist, ankles pinning his wrists down as she held the knife to his throat.

"You fucking asshole," she hissed. "I've known her my whole fucking life. And you killed her. Your turn to die."

The steel blade rose in Bianca's slim hand, gleaming in the soft pre-dawn light that filtered through the lacey curtains, once pure white, now stained red with Cameron's blood, and swiftly slashed across the man's neck. She had no compunctions doing this, it seemed. A life for a life, it seemed, to pay the debt that was owed her for Cameron's death.

It was only when he stopped breathing that she broke, climbing away from the bloody corpse of the man she had killed toward the body of her friend. Nadia pulled away from Murphy to join her. Both were sniffling, but only Nadia dared wipe her nose or eyes – Bianca's hands were red from the man's blood.

They bowed their heads and began to speak, very quietly, as though in prayer.

"_Las estrellas en el Cielo arriba, nuestra hermana caída le une este día. Vivió con dignidad y alegría, pero se cayó a las armas de injusticia. Aunque el corazón ya no bate, su vida continuará, en los corazones y mentes de las hermanas que se quedan. Su voz será nuestra guía en los tiempos oscuros adelante. Adiós, hermana caída."_

Nadia put a hand on Bianca's shoulder. "She'd be proud of you," she said. "You did what she taught you to do."

Bianca just nodded.

Connor looked at Murphy. This was the first time they'd really dealt with anything like this at all, and it was an unusual thing.

Bianca sounded like a child as she spoke in a broken whisper, "What should we do with the bodies?"

"Normally, I'd say call the police," Nadia said, "but this…this isn't like before." Her hazel eyes were focused on the body of their childhood friend.

"Who helped ya with the las' one?" Murphy asked.

"We have his number, but I don't know if he can help us. This is different."

"Call and see."

Connor watched as his brother tossed the phone – the girls had installed it themselves when they moved in – to Nadia, who caught it with surprising ease. She dialed the number and waited, while Murphy and Connor huddled close to hear the conversation best they could.

"_Boston PD, Detective Greenly speaking,"_ came the voice that answered.

"Greenly, I have a problem."

"_Nadia? What's wrong? What happened?"_

"These two guys – I'm sure they're related to that Derek fuck that tried to rape me – busted in our door this morning. They had guns."

"_Are you girls all right?"_

"They killed Cameron. We killed them."

A moment of silence passed, in which Nadia and Bianca sobbed softly.

"_I'm on my way. I have to bring a couple uniforms along, and the other two detectives who generally work homicides, but I'll be there in a jiffy. You girls need any help? How's Bianca doin'?"_

"We'll be all right. The neighbors helped us. Bianca's coming to terms with what she did."

"_What did __**she**__ do?"_

"She slit the throat of the one who killed Cameron."

Connor slowly stepped away from Nadia, kneeling beside Bianca and putting his hand on her shoulder, quite gently.

"She's safe now," Bianca muttered, sniffing slightly. "No more worrying or looking over her shoulder."

"Ya got that right," Connor told her. "Ya did good. She would be proud of her best friends…the avengin' angels from rural Pennsylvania."

The two laughed. "We came here to get away from the boring life in Pennsylvania. We didn't think life would be this exciting in Boston, though."

Connor wrapped his arm around the petite twenty-six-year-old girl's waist. It felt natural to him, to offer her comfort. He said nothing more, just let her cry. But now, she had his robe to cry on.

* * *

An hour later, Nadia and Bianca sat on the bottom bunk, wrapped in blankets, as a uniformed officer asked interrogated them on the morning's event. One of the detectives did the same with Connor and Murphy.

And all the while, two other uniformed officers, with the help of a morgue official, put the three bodies into the unfriendly and black body bags they'd been supplied.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Those words were repeated several times to the two young women over the course of the next few hours as their curtains were taken down and their blood-spattered blankets taken away. They had now lost everything, including their third member. They were an incomplete unit.

They intended to do something about the way things were.

* * *

**This is the pre-BDS chapter. Next one starts with St. Paddy's Day. See the cover (when I post it) for what Nadia (left) and Bianca (right) look like. Pictures are not exact, but it's just to give an idea!**

**Excuse the accent problem, please and thank you. Cheese and crackers.**

**I appreciate reviews. They give me ideas and show me what the public wants!**

**Much love,**

**xHx**

**P.S., I know the chapter title's kinda funny, but what the heck?**


	2. It's Unlike Anything

**Hey, hi, hello!**

* * *

St. Patrick's Day. Bianca, Cameron, and Nadia's favorite day of the year. Each year since they had moved to Boston, the trio had visited McGinty's pub, a favorite spot for everyone.

This year, they were one short.

As their tradition as roommates required, the two sat in a corner of the pub, three bottles of Jose Cuervo tequila along the wall and a line of six shot glasses in front of each. It was a drinking game, one that progressed with each passing year. Each girl knew her threshold of shots – Bianca was the record holder, with twelve lines of shots before she so much as slurred her words. Ninety-six shot glasses full of tequila.

Nadia was trying to reach this record. Bianca was trying to outmatch herself.

"_Hey, Fuck-ass, get me a beer!"_

The shouted words reached the best friends, who laughed. That was the game. Whenever Doc or someone referring to Doc said Doc's favorite two words – "Fuck! Ass!" – they had to do a line of shots. This was lucky number seven – Doc was doing well this year.

"You are going down, Bee," Nadia said, pouring the golden liquid into her own eight glasses. "It's happening this year."

"I disagree, Dee," Bianca replied, pouring her line. "It's going to go the same way it always does."

"Cami almost beat you last year. Maybe it's my turn."

"Hey, girls, how you doin'?"

The Italian Intrusion, David Della Rocco, leaned on the edge of their table, dark brown eyes flicking between the two slender, young girls. He was always wondering if there was anything they wanted or needed. They never told him, even if there was something."

"We're doing fine," Nadia told him. "The game continues."

"Ohh, it is _so_ on," Bianca said, picking up the first glass and tipping her head back.

* * *

The night wore on, until only the most faithful remained in the bar, most cluttered around the counter. Connor and Murphy sat there, on either side of the Italian Intrusion, with their boss to Murphy's right. Nadia and Bianca had not moved.

"I bet he'll say it soon," Bianca said, tapping the knuckle of her right index finger on the tabletop. "It's been half a fucking hour."

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Listen, listen, boys!" Doc shouted at the men seated around him. "I've got some very bad news." No one reacted to that statement well. Ever. "I'm gonna have to close down th-th-the bar." Shouts and groans erupted over the group. "The Russians are buyin' up buildin's all over town, includin' this one – Fuck! Ass! – and they're not lettin' me renew my lease."

"Luckiest number of all," Bianca said. "On a sour note, but why the hell not?"

"You go' that right," Nadia said, already slurring.

"Here's hopin'," Bianca said, picking up the first glass and knocking it back.

"Well, you know what they say – people in glass houses sink sh-sh-ships."

_Oh, here it goes, finally,_ Bianca thought. _Mix and match proverbs by Doc._

"Y'know, Doc, I gotta buy you, like, a proverb book or some shit like that. This mix and match shit's gotta go," Rocco told the old man.

"Yeah, 'a penny saved's worth two in the bush,' innit?" Connor said, sarcasm coloring his lilting accent, unmarred by the amount of alcohol he'd drunk since the night began.

"And 'don't cross the road if ya can't get outta the kitchen,'" Murphy threw in.

And Bianca downed her hundred and fourth shot of tequila of the night. She slammed the last glass down, upside-down on the table, threw her arms into the air, and shouted with joy.

"And Bee wins again," Connor said, glancing over at the girls just as three burly men in suits – one bald with a tie and thick eyebrows, another bald with pale eyebrows and thin facial hair, and one with curly hair and even more facial hair than the first – all but marched into the bar.

The bald one with thick eyebrows spoke, his Russian accent thick. "I am Ivan Checkov, and you will be closing – now."

"Checkov?" Murphy said, definitely drunk. "Well! This here's McCoy!" He threw an arm around Rocco. "We find a Spock, we got us an away team."

Nadia and Bianca shared a look as the latter stood and, silent as she could, opened the janitorial closet behind their table and extracted two mop handles. Rounded blunt on either end, they were perfect for self-defense – if such a situation arose. Both girls stayed where they were, watching the events, except as Nadia mouthed, _"I didn't know Murphy was into Star Trek."_ Bianca shrugged in reply.

"I am in no mood for discussion. You! You stay. The rest of you – go _now_." The Russian waved his hands at the pub-goers. They had not seen the two girls standing in the corner, sixteen shot glasses and one quarter-emptied bottle of tequila on their table.

"Why can't you make like a tree and get the fuck outta here?!" Doc told the Russians. This was followed by a renewed round of groans at the mixed proverb their beloved barman had delivered.

"You know he's got 'til the week's end. You don't have to be hard-asses, do ya?" Connor said.

"Yeah, it's St. Paddy's Day – everyone's Irish tonight," Murphy added as Connor took a drink of his beer. "Why don't you just pull up a stool and have a drink with us?"

And Ivan smashed the beer glasses.

_Oh, shit,_ Bianca thought.

"This is no game! If you won't go, we will make you go."

"He's fucked," Nadia said, supporting herself halfway on the broom handle.

"Listen," Connor began, "if ya want to fight, you can see yer outnumbered here. We're tryin' to be civil, so I suggest ya take our offer."

"_I_ make the offers," Ivan said, leaning close into the Irishman's face.

"Hey, Boris," the Incredibly Intoxicated Italian began, staggering forward, "what would you do…if I told you…your pinko commie mother sucked so much dick, her face looked li –"

And Ivan punched him.

"Fuck you!" Murphy shouted, finger toward Ivan's face as he straightened, unaware that two slight women approached him silently, broom handles raised in both hands.

"_Now, that wasn't too polite, was it?"_ Connor said, in Russian – Bianca's specialty.

"_I'm afraid we can't let that one go, Vanya,"_ Murphy added.

The two downed a shot of whiskey each, Doc looking on with a worried expression, and rushed Ivan as they had rushed the man who slaughtered Cameron, but from the front. Nadia was caught between the Russian and the floor and, being too slow to dodge, she ended up on her back, while Bianca raised her handle and started bashing at the light-facial-haired bald man's shoulders. Connor joined in, jabbing him in the face with his fists.

The small segment of the fight began to spin. Bianca often used the broom handle to smash at the Russian's back, trying to knock him down. Finally, Connor spun him into a mirror.

"That was convenient," Bianca said.

"It was," Connor said with a laugh. "Where'd ya learn to fight with that thing?"

"It's a combination of techniques – I'll explain later!"

And they dove back into the fight.

* * *

Not too much later, as the excitement of the fight died down, Bianca and Nadia said their farewells to the friends they had fought beside – all except Connor and Murphy. Living in the same building had an advantage.

They didn't have to go anywhere alone at night.

"That was so awesome," Bianca said. She still carried the handle and was currently spinning it in figure eights in front of her.

"Where'd ya learn that shit, Bee?" Connor asked.

"Well, Connor, it's a combination of six years color guard – seventh and eighth grade and all of high school – and eight and a half years of mixed martial arts training. My parents insisted on both of them. Dee, Cami, and I were the only ones at our high school who were allowed to do this" – she flipped the stick into the air – "with our flags."

"Well, yer just a regular badass, aren't ya?" Murphy said. "Why'd you two go to a hundred and four shots tonight?"

"It's the record. That's the premise of my yearly game – to outmatch my previous year's total. This year, because last year I got to ninety-six, I had to get to eight higher," Bianca said, smacking the Irishman in the shoulder with the stick.

"That's the worst drinkin' game ever!" Connor told her, earning a smack of his own with the stick.

"Let's get home. We've got a lot of shit to do," Bianca said, holding the stick behind her, over her shoulder, as she walked

* * *

**Ahhhh, barfights. I've never written one before. Please, review with your opinion of my version of the original barfight. All recognizeable lines, belong to Troy Duffy and whoever the heck else is involved in the crafting of these AWESOME movies!**

**Much love,**

**xHx**


	3. Keep Me On The Ground

Bianca straightened her hat. "Do I look okay?" she asked her roommate. The knit cap brought out the green tones that surrounded her pupils.

"What, you got a breakfast date or something?" Nadia asked, straightening the pale blue button-up and past-the-knee black pencil skirt she wore. Her fluffy honey-blond hair was up in a top-knot, and her makeup was tasteful, but alluring, purple shades of powder around her eyes defining the honey shades of her brown eyes.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you did, too," Bianca replied, smacking her best friend in the shoulder. The hour was very early. They knew their friends and protectors, the brothers across the hall, would not be up for a while.

Or at least, they hoped so.

The morning after St. Patrick's Day was always hellish to the girls. Their love of tequila shots always bit them in the backside. They did not, however, expect what they heard across the hall.

"_Freeze, you fucking Irish faggots!"_

It was Ivan Checkov, the thug from the bar. From the sound of things, he was retaliating against the brothers for what had occurred in the bar. Nadia and Bianca, not knowing how to react, hid against the wall, on either side of their doorway, watching for possible assailants. This took only a few seconds, but in their focus, they completely missed what happened.

Then, two of the Russian thugs – Ivan and the darker-haired intimidator – led Murphy from the boys' loft. Nadia, who had a massive headache but had remedied herself (partway) with an aspirin and a tall glass of water, could not refrain from gasping. Bianca held a finger to her own lips, ordering that her best friend remain silent.

Nadia nodded in acknowledgement. Neither would handle losing another sister-friend very well, and the boys would feel the worst of the sting.

_We will wait this out,_ Bianca mouthed to her best friend. _If the boys need our help, we help._ Another nod from Nadia and the two settled in for a long wait.

* * *

They didn't need to wait long.

By the time Bianca realized what Connor was doing, it was already too late. She could not, and would not, get between this Irishman and his objective – between Connor McManus and protecting his brother.

It was days like this that Bianca was sure Connor was the older of the twins, despite the fact that their mother refused to tell them. It was the protective instinct Connor had, reminding her of her own older brother.

"How much longer should we wait, Bee?" Nadia asked in a hushed tone. "My boss will kill me if I'm even a second late."

"So will mine, Dee," Bianca replied. "We just have to let Connor do his thing, let them get away, and then get out ourselves."

"What do you mean, 'get away?'"

_As if you don't know,_ Bianca thought. "Connor has the protective instinct, like an Alpha wolf for his pack, where we and his brother are concerned. He won't let someone tormenting his family live very long."

"Oh."

_Six Hours Later_

Bianca checked her watch as she straightened the row of clothes. Her boss, a formidable woman with a stern face and steel-grey hair by the name of Mrs. Alice Walter, watched her with scrutinizing pale green eyes. She was already on a sort of probation, having been late to work four times in three weeks, and every move she made was watched.

"Got somewhere to be?" James, her only coworker on the shift, asked as he refolded a pair of jeans.

"Sort of. Mrs. Walter will _never_ let me go early, though, and you know it." She replaced the pair of crescent moon dangle earrings in their proper places on the silver rack. "Especially considering I got here an hour late."

"Yeah, that's true," James said.

The door opened, the small bell chiming a cheery sound through the shop, as Doc came into the boutique. Bianca approached him, grinning.

"Hey, Doc," she said cheerfully. "Finally taking my suggestion to test some colognes?"

"Th-th-that's nice, but I need to t-t-talk to you," he replied.

"Let's go through the charade for Mrs. Walter, though – not supposed to socialize on the job." She led him over to the fragrance wall, pulling out a few different sample bottles of cologne. "Take your pick."

Doc picked up one of the bottles, his hand shaking. "Th-the boys are in t-t-t-trouble."

"You can't be serious," Bianca replied. "They never do anything that could cause that, unless you count last night's bar-fight…"

"I th-think that's what st-st-st-started this. Fuck! Ass!"

Just in time, Bianca reached for the stereo controls, turning up the volume of the rough rock song. Mrs. Walter stood in front of three speakers, making her the victim of a sound blast.

_"…take a little note_

_To remind you in case you didn't know_

_Tell yourself I love you and I don't want you to go…"_

"Doc, I know you're stressed, but Mrs. Walter hates swearing," she said. The old bartender nodded, sniffing the spray nozzle. "I know what you're talking about now – they were acting in self-defense! How could they be in trouble for that?"

Doc nodded. "The-the-the cops know you're their n-n-n-neighbors."

"How?"

"A p-previous incident."

Bianca frowned. They knew because of Cami.

"They want to talk to us?"

"Yes."

"Great."

The two stood there in an uncomfortable silence before Doc said, "I th-th-think I'll get this f-f-for one of the boys," holding up a black-and-gold-labeled glass bottle of cologne.

"Oh, good. You want it gift-wrapped?"

"S-s-sure."

"I'll take care of that right away for you."

_One Hour Later_

Bianca and Nadia stood outside the imposing building that was the Boston Police Department, arms linked, looking up at the windows nervously.

"The last time we were here, we were trying to convince the chief that we acted in self-defense," Nadia said softly.

"Yeah," Bianca replied, "but this time we're going in to talk about Connor and Murphy's innocence. They didn't plan to kill the Russians."

So, they climbed the steps and entered the office, which was abuzz with ringing phones, chattering voices, and one loud voice that stood out with its consistent swearing and boisterous quality.

"This can't be true," Detective David Greenly insisted loudly. "These two, they wouldn't do this kinda shit, y'know? They just aren't killers! We're barkin' up the wrong fuckin' tree, that's what I say."

"Oh, David!" Nadia called over the noise. Everyone went silent as Greenly turned around, meeting her golden eyes. "That's what you said about me and Bianca, and we wouldn't be standing here if that were the truth."

One man, shorter than most of the officers, wearing a business-like suit with his longer, dusky blond hair slicked back, came and greeted them, extending his hand.

"Special Agent Paul Smecker, ladies," he said, incredibly professional. "Please, come with me."

* * *

After an hour of advocating Connor and Murphy's good qualities, the conversation turned to Bianca and Nadia.

"Now," Agent Smecker said, flicking the ashes off of his cigarette, "you should be aware that I read your file. It was rather thick for two unassuming young ladies from Pennsylvania. How is it that you two know how to use knives and other weapons?"

"Resourcefulness and necessity," Bianca said. "It was actually Cameron's idea that we learn self-defense, when we first made plans to move here, a few years ago. We enrolled in whatever martial arts classes would take us, and then started to apply our color-guard training to the practices."

"Yeah, and after a while we started learning how to use our knives, and proper techniques for subduing an opponent. We're actually quite lethal if we need to be," Nadia added.

"It's incredible. Detective Greenly seems to enjoy the two of you, quite a lot," the FBI agent said, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"He's like our best friend. He helped us deal with Cameron…"

"Y'know," the agent said, setting down the cigarette, "your names looked familiar on paper. Why would that be?"

Nadia and Bianca shared a look, before Bianca spoke. "Please don't let that information go public. We've tried so hard to cultivate a life here. We just want to have a life outside of our parents' influence, and out of the public eye."

"I get it. Freedom. It's enticing."

After another few minutes, the girls were let loose. But they didn't leave. Instead, they sat on the steps, waiting…

* * *

**Please review! I love comments! Lyrics in the middle of the chapter courtesy of Mr. George Strait, from his song _Write This Down_, which is a favorite of mine.**

**Much love,**

**xHx**


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